


nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

by dannyikigay



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Choking, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sexual Content, Strippers & Strip Clubs, passionate lovemaking, tyki’s adoration is complicated and immense, unestablished relationship but they want to be together so bad nothing can tear them apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 15:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20909804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannyikigay/pseuds/dannyikigay
Summary: A stripper with a pink wig, a wandering man.Tyki comes back in town every three months; Allen waits for him.Where they navigate tenderness and sex.





	nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

**Author's Note:**

> https://youtu.be/caxGz3cs7-Y <3  
title comes from a song by a band called cigarettes after sex. <3 check out this link, it sets the mood of the fic...

When Tyki left his hotel room, he was wearing his best suit for the occasion. He had felt the necessity to leave earlier, putting on his dress jacket and his leather belt to conform to the taste of the night, curls left loose and wild. Regardless of how many times he departed, the city welcomed him and he came back to it.  
  
He visited the same tobacco shop; the old man squinted his wrinkled eyes at him, handing him his favourite brand of cigarettes. _Camel_, yellow; Tyki liked how little things used to stay the same. The owner asked him how his trip went, Tyki took his bills out his wallet and paid the price. After the usual, brief conversation, he was back in the street, breathing in the normality of that world. It was reassuring and fearful, both at the same time.  
  
_One day this will change, I will change, and I'll never come back to the city I hold dear to my heart._  
  
Tyki took a drag from his cigarette, taking the tobacco in his lungs. The city was wide before his eyes, synthetic, plastic neon of violet, red, pink. It was like he remembered it; the same alleyways, rows of shops, young couples strolling by and stopping in their steps to exchange hurried kisses. Tyki felt calm and patient, fore and middle finger holding his cigarette, thumb tapping the filter to let the ashes, gathered at the edge, crumble against the asphalt. There was this expectancy making him smile, a sense of familiarity keeping him warm; he knew the city by heart, and all the roads that led to that languid place.  
  
Hand in his pocket, cigarette hanging from his lips, a fresh wind brushed the back of his head; Tyki fixed the collar of his shirt, too tight at the base of his throat. He was a few steps away from the two-floor building, a sultry, slow music playing inside the club; Tyki recognised a saxophone, typical sensuality.  
  
He threw the cigarette, stubbing it with the heel of his shoe.  
  
That place didn’t look any different. Every three months, it was pink and blue and exquisitely soothing; it felt like a pleasant consuetude.  
  
When he walked into the stripclub, sparkling lights came to his view. Blue lights, layering long shadows on the bright freshness of crystal and glass. The smoke lingered at the tip of his tongue; his lips were perfectly dry. His tongue slipped past them to lick across his upper lip, softly, the taste of tobacco in his breath.  
  
His golden eye, inquiring, took in the dim lighting of the club, carefully designed to illuminate the cool edge of a glass of brandy or the high heels of a dancer on stage. And he breathed in the scent of malt and the perfume of white peony; things that left him dizzy with abandon, pained with that sort of headache throbbing at the base of his temples.  
  
What was once a familiar environment came to him like something strange, immensely sad. Three dancers swung by three poles, looking tall in their stilettos and provocative with their cheap brassière. All that beauty, miserable and wasted. They were beautiful, in all the different ways women could be beautiful. They exploited the same tricks and let their long hair fall over their shoulders in sensual invitation, legs spread wide to the eyes of the wanton human. Tyki liked to see that beauty crumble, like he used to find fascination in all the gorgeous things twisted into horrid truths.  
  
The waiter brought him gin and tonic. Tyki’s lips were tight around the brim of the glass, and the liquid flowed cold and bitter in his mouth, lips wetter and fresher.  
  
One hand stashed into the pocket of his dress slacks, Tyki walked up to the stage. Looking up, he took another sip. Pink hair gleamed under the blue lights, translucent. It was an adorable bob cut, fringe brushing so precisely above the dancer’s eyebrows. She shone on her own, clicking her plateaux heels against the floor; her hands were firm on the cold steel, trained body twirling around the pole with great effortlessness. People threw her money at her and she smiled, pristine and polite, hooking the bills under her delicate red stockings. But she looked in front of herself, melanchonically lost. It reminded Tyki of when he was high; amnesiac, stupid, numb.  
  
She had her body decorated with rhinestones and glitter, each tiny sparkle glimmering as she swayed her waist, as the light hit her when she climbed up the pole, legs tight around it to find her balance while her upper body swung free, and she threw her head back, pink bangs a delicate contrast with her pale skin, eyes squeezed shut, glossy lips slightly parted.  
  
Tyki took a deep breath, unable to direct his gaze elsewhere even as he brought the drink to his lips, taking the laziest, slowest sips. The alcohol made him feel warm to the core, burning around his heart. His eyes wandered on her red two-piece costume, stockings attached to her panties. The elegant shape of her foot, caught in her red-polish plateau, reminded him of something he adored, fraught with a charm he wouldn’t be able to define in its own, if not for its absolute beauty.  
  
But as graceful as she was, she reminded him of a tired whore. She lacked the daintiness he knew she once must have had. He could picture her, painting her lips red and bathing her body in glitter to appeal to the night. She was familiar, and an infinite tenderness brought a smile to Tyki’s lips. She looked rough, raunchy, and messed up at the edges.  
  
When he gulped down the rest of his drink, a slick sheen of saliva lingered where his lips had kissed the brim. He knew his smile was charming, that he was magnificent in the way he adored her. Because he knew her. All of her, from the pale silver of her eyes to the frail consistence of her waist, skinny and fragile. Tyki felt that familiarity, and it was when she noticed him. She was almost transparent, white and insubstantial through the million shades of dark blue. She sunk down to her knees; the cold platform allowed her to be above him, so that her face was an inch away from him and her eyes were wet with the sheen of tears. Tyki’s breath faltered, and his heart ached. Hypnotised by the spell of her gaze. He knew her. He knew _her, _and he knew she wasn't a girl, that _she _was able in the art of hiding herself. That she [he] was an alluring siren, made of fake smiles and crystalline tears.  
  
She brushed Tyki’s chin with delicate fingers, tilting it just slightly. Coquettish invitation, crave for money. But she cupped his jaws and her glossy lips touched his in the ghost of a kiss, her colourless eyelashes fluttering softly as she pulled away like a dream, lips tickling Tyki’s earlobe at her words, whispered like a secret through the rhythm of the music and the cheer of the crowd.  
  
“Meet me at the back exit,” she said, and by the time Tyki _felt _that, she was on her feet, dancing like she was born to seduce. His grip was impossibly tight around the empty glass, breaths coming out short, erratic. The pole was shining; the stripper was glittering. The lights were of a profound blue; a few more drinks played with his lucidity. Pink hair shifted from dark to bright, and a sudden ray of plastic light came to expose that pretty face, frowning in abandon. There was no trace of the horrid, red scar that once tortured the harmony of soft features; Allen put it behind too much make-up, looking beautiful for the night.  
  
Tyki chuckled, low and deep. He turned around, escaping his way out through the black, loud mess of partygoers. The wind brushed the sweat from his forehead, a cold sensation sharp and biting at his ribs. The city lights gleamed before his eyes, cars drove down the highway. Looking up at the sky, a smile spread at the corners of his mouth with the realisation that he was _there, _that the only thing that separated them was a matter of time.  
  
  
♧ ♤ ♥ ♢  
  
The club door slammed closed, and Tyki tilted his head to the source of that sound. Allen wore an oversized denim jacket and shorts, long white hair loose on his shoulders with feather-like softness. He looked at Tyki with a contented smile, as if extremely proud of the fact that he was suddenly almost as tall as him thanks to his (presumably) seven-inch heels. Tyki’s gaze was naturally attracted to his shoes, like there was something absolutely terrifying in the way Allen walked in them, so extraordinarily, majestically _effortless_.  
  
“Do you like my heels?” Allen said, taking a few steps towards him. His voice came to him sweet and provocative, like it used to be when he made fun of him, or adoperated his sarcasm to prove his wit.  
  
“I do,” Tyki answered, tender. “I’m glad you didn’t take them off.”  
  
Allen smiled, brushing his white fringe out his face. His smile was expectant, eloquent. It grew wider when Tyki fetched a cigarette out his pocket and brought it directly between Allen’s lips. Allen came to cup a hand around the cigarette to secure it from the wind, while Tyki struck the flick of the lighter a few times until the flame finally found the edge. There was something particularly cooperative in the way he motivated Allen’s vice. In the way he lit his cigarette, and how he adored that Allen had decided to play that game. But Tyki could see through him. Could see it in Allen’s compassionate eyes, in the insecurity of his hands. He took a deep drag, looking down. Tyki wanted to kiss him, take him, embrace him. Wanted to be looked at, loved, accepted.  
  
He didn’t think he had the right to ask him if there was still a place for him in his heart.  
  
Allen leaned against the wall, hollowing his cheeks to breathe in the smoke. “When did you arrive?”  
  
“This morning,” Tyki said. “It took me a while to arrive. This city's crazy,” he continued, and it was partly true.  
  
“That’s because you’re distracted,” Allen scoffed, focused on the red imprint of his lipstick around the filter. He took another drag, blowing the smoke through his painted lips.  
  
Tyki snorted, because it was another truth. He wasn’t particularly attentive, or anxious. “Maybe. I guess this is why I didn’t realise you were the stripper with the pink wig.”  
  
“That’s also because you aren’t wearing your chunky glasses,” Allen laughed, a venomous sound. Tyki liked it. He threw the cigarette somewhere on the asphalt, extinguishing it with the tip of his dress shoe.  
  
Tyki put on a smug grin, reaching out to pull Allen close to his chest. “Would you like that? If I wore those ugly glasses?”  
  
Allen felt tense in his arms; Tyki held him just a bit tighter. He smelled of shampoo and candy, warm and delicate. Like something Tyki wanted to grow familiar with: a salvation.  
  
“No. You shouldn’t cover your eyes,” Allen affirmed in all his beautiful sincerity, astounding tenderness. It made Tyki’s heart ache, electricity sizzling in his blood. “Those glasses look ridiculous, but at least they can be useful in this case.”  
  
A laugh, genuine and deep, rumbled into Tyki’s chest. “I've missed this about you the most. The way you _think _you got me with your sense of humour.”  
  
Allen frowned, brows arched impossibly tight. “It’s not that I _think_,” he reasoned, almost offended. “It’s the truth,” he said, blinking ultra-softly. “You wouldn’t come back if that wasn’t true.”  
  
Tyki cupped Allen’s nape, tangling his fingers through his smooth locks. There was a clever remark at the back of his mind, but it didn’t find voice. “I don’t know about that,” he whispered, the hand in Allen’s hair forcing him to look up, directly into Tyki’s eyes. Allen wouldn’t resist, wouldn’t escape. His breath ghosted across Tyki’s lips, tense and impatient.  
  
_I belong to you. It doesn't matter if you bore me, if I keep loving you.  
  
_“I really, really don’t know,” he said, and Allen laced his arms around Tyki’s neck. His black eyelashes fluttered softly, allowing him to observe him through half-lidded eyes. Allen gripped Tyki’s curls, tilting his head to the side as their lips clashed slowly, too delicately. It left him giddy, pained with emotion. Allen pressed their chests close, letting Tyki’s lips slide against and with his.  
  
Tyki pulled away with a slick noise, stroking Allen’s lower lip with his thumb. Testing the plushness with his finger, the tip of his nose rested against Allen’s, eyes peering into silver pearls until abandon; Allen looked like he could cry, and Tyki couldn’t bear that.  
  
One hand was planted on Allen’s spine, rough and demanding. It slid down until he took a firm handful of Allen’s backside, too desperate to be or feel erotic. Allen understood him; he took Tyki’s face between his smalls hands, shoving his wet tongue into his mouth. Tyki licked across his lips, breathing deep and harsh through his nostrils. He took Allen’s waist into his hands, sucking the tip of his pink, wet tongue into his mouth. There was a sudden rush that made him feverish. When they pulled away, Allen’s spit lingered on Tyki’s lips and cheek. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on Allen’s jaw, breathing in the perfume of his skin.  
  
Allen exhaled a breathy laughter, tapping his forefinger against Tyki’s lips. “You've got my lipstick all over your face,” he said, trailing his fingertips across Tyki’s mouth. Tyki took them in, wrapping his hand around Allen’s wrist. His tongue lavished his nails, his knuckles, lips stretched around his fingers in a smirk.  
  
It made Allen smile again, indulgently. Tyki led his fingers out his mouth, letting Allen’s hand rest into his. “Nobody will notice at this hour,” he chuckled, breathless. Allen gave him an intense stare, bangs brushing his cheeks at each slight tilt of his head. His irises were deep, lips too swollen, and intentions too genuine.  
  
He wore a seductive smile, although it lacked the usual provocation. It sounded rigorous, bursting with passion. “We should call a taxi.”  
  
  
♧ ♤ ♥ ♢  
  
The first time Tyki left, Allen said it was normal. Said that they were free to fool around, to be distracted with other people. Said that it was the right thing to do, that they were bound to find their inspiration with different kinds of partners. But he had said it with a sad smile, eyes dull. _I'm not enough, am I? _  
  
There was nothing else aside the pure wanderlust. Travelling from place to place, experimenting a certain type of life. Submitting himself to new challenges, to get to know the man he’d become under all the circumstances.  
  
Tyki took Allen’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He placed it on his lap, cupping the back of it with his left one. Sliver of lights illuminated his face as the car went by, and he gazed beyond the window. There was a familiar tune playing on the radio. Silver paillettes on his cheek gave million sparkles. Allen was many things. The pink-haired stripper with the red bikini, the white-haired boy kissing him without regret. The distant creature avoiding to look at Tyki, albeit letting the man secure his hand into his own, so much larger and darker in comparison.  
  
Was Tyki’s wanderlust worth it, when he risked to return and never see Allen’s face again? Was it worth the lump at the base of his throat at Allen’s absence?  
  
And how could a simple human being be so beautiful, so _terribly _wondrous?  
  
Allen’s smile terrified him. Hurt him. Because he knew Allen had no love for himself, except a tragic tenderness for anyone else. He knew that people could beat him, damage him, throw and toss him like trash because he was something so absurdly magnific, so awfully compassionate, and he would _forgive,_ forgive, forgive and forget because the only person he couldn’t get along with was himself.  
  
“Boy,” Tyki murmured, letters coming out husky, pained with desire. Allen tilted his head to the side, leaning against the seat. Tyki leaned forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to his exposed neck, charmed by his sweet scent. Allen looked at him, almost abashed in the way he quickly averted his gaze, so pathetically wary of Tyki’s softest adoration.  
  
Tyki caressed Allen’s bare knee, settling his hand between his skinny thighs. Allen rubbed them together, looking back into Tyki’s eye with something different from embarrassment. When he escaped Tyki’s stare, it wasn’t because he was a coward, far from that. Tyki knew him for being courageous, the sly boy who would beat him at cards and present new, unexplainable tricks; thousands ways to fool Tyki, and prevaricate him in that game. It was because Tyki’s attraction had lasted through the months, and neither could come to terms with that. Tyki was scared. Allen was selfless.  
  
The car left them down the street; Tyki fetched money out his leather wallet, handing the bills to the taxi driver. Allen looked at him with want, through half-lidded eyes. They got off the car, and Tyki held him by the hip as they walked towards the yellowed building, all scraped bricks and writings on the walls.  
  
They climbed the same number of stairs, every three months, sharing a dizzy feeling of euphoria as they reached Allen’s floor.  
  
“Lavi won’t be home until late night,” Allen said, fumbling for the keys of his apartment. The words, in their subtle meaning, held something painfully erotic.  
  
Tyki stepped in, letting Allen close the door behind them. There were Lavi’s books on the floor, papers and journals crumpled on the furniture. Tyki followed him in his bedroom. Lavi’s liveliness seemed to overshadow the proof of Allen’s existence, in some way. But Tyki could see it, as a pair of Chuck Taylor was stashed casually at the feet of Allen’s bed, as his eyes noticed two long earrings on his bedside table. It felt like Allen was willingly trying to conceal himself.  
  
The mattress shifted under his weight as he sat, planting his hands on the sheets. Allen’s back faced him. He tucked off his jacket, sliding the t-shirt off his head. Tyki stared at his back appreciately, milky complexion inspiring a deep sense of affection in him. So he placed his hands on Allen’s hips, pursing his lips in a kiss to his spine. With great delight, Allen trembled slightly, head tilted to the side to glance at Tyki over his shoulder.  
  
“You're tense,” Tyki said. He stood on his feet, leaning down just slightly so he could kiss Allen’s cheek, burying his nose through his perfumed hair. He wrapped his arms around his lithe form, trailing kisses from Allen’s jawline to his sensitive neck. Allen cupped Tyki’s hands with his own, drawing circles over Tyki’s knuckles. He let them rest there, on his abdomen.  
  
“I’m simply exhausted,” Allen sighed. His long eyelashes tickled Tyki’s face, just barely, when Tyki leaned over to kiss his cheekbone. _I'm exhausted. _  
  
“I know, boy.” Tyki breathed, very low. He brushed the crown of his head with the softest kiss, voice too deep and too hoarse. He felt an infinite sentiment for him, as well as the wicked desire to have him like that. Sad, wonderful. Wanting to make a work of art out of his despair, in many intimate ways.  
  
Allen turned into his embrace, shoving Tyki on the bed. Tyki landed on his back, dragging Allen with him, hands planted on his waist. Swift fingers came to unbutton Tyki’s shirt, and soft lips took Tyki’s mouth for a gentle kiss; their tongues clashed, slick and arousing and just _perfect_. It felt right; being with Allen felt right. Allen pulled away from the kiss, collapsing on the bed by Tyki’s side. He unbuttoned his shorts, tucking them off his legs.  
  
Tyki got off the bed, just to kneel at Allen’s feet. Cupping one frail ankle, he pressed a kiss to Allen’s toe. Allen looked at him with bashful awareness. He undid the straps of his shoes, gently sliding them off his sore feet. With his thumb, Tyki massaged the ball of Allen’s foot, relaxing the tangled mess of nerves.  
  
“Does it hurt?”  
  
Allen shook his head. “Not much. It’s a pleasant pain.”  
  
“Typical of you,” Tyki mused, resting a kiss atop Allen’s toenail. He massaged Allen’s feet into his hands, rolling his fingertips on the pale skin. “There’s nothing that can take you down.”  
  
Allen was silent. Tyki let his heels drop to the floor. “Would you call me a fool if I tried to win you over, if I tried to tear you apart?” he said, grinning suggestively. Then standing in front of Allen, he loosened his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders to let it fall where he had abandoned Allen’s shoes.  
  
“I don’t think you would particularly care,” Allen said. Tyki offered a lopsided smile. Taking off shoes and trousers, he was almost totally bare. _I don't think you would particularly care. _  
  
Next came his underwear, limp length bouncing free under Allen’s adoring stare. Allen raised his legs, sliding off his thin panties as well. He moved aside, getting under the linens. Tyki joined him, reaching out to stroke Allen’s cheek. Words caught at the back of his throat, his lungs stung.  
  
“I have you. It doesn’t matter if you think I wouldn’t care about you,” he whispered, like it was some sort of obscenity. Allen cuddled closer, smoothing his hand on Tyki’s face. Up close, Allen felt cold, insubstantial. Tyki had to kiss his cheek to ensure he was still real, and not a drunken mirage; not what he imagined when his heart was lonely. The light that filtered through the window kissed Allen’s face, glinting into his moonlight eyes.  
  
“Shh,” Allen said. Tyki fell quiet. Wandering dogs barked down the street, cars vroomed by on the distant highway. Allen’s eyes slipped closed, his mouth moving elegantly against his. Tyki lost himself in the sweetness of his caress. He smeared Allen’s lipstick, all red, blurred stains on his cheeks. Their kisses acquired countless meanings, each holding some type of thought, a new story. They tasted different. That time, Allen was too slow, shattering time in a cage of glass. The sound of their slick lips pressing soft smooches hit his heart where it was thumping, strangely hurtful.  
  
Contrarily to their shameless sensuality, there was something indescribably pure in being absolutely naked. Basking in each other’s warmth, the need for carnality impetuous but not necessary.  
  
Allen gripped Tyki’s back, open palms cupping his muscled shoulder-blades. Tyki had his arms around his waist, printing ticklish, tireless kisses on his neck, on his shoulder, his throat, his chin. Allen did the same; Tyki gave out an amused laugh when the boy sniffed his broad chest, licking him with the tip of his tongue. A sudden groan escaped his lips as Tyki pressed their bodies together.  
  
“Oh?” he looked down, then into Allen’s eye. A blush, graceful but not coy, coloured Allen’s pale cheeks at the realisation that he was hard, painfully hard, and Tyki wanted nothing but devour him.  
  
“You don’t have to take care of that,” Allen murmured.  
  
Tyki smiled patiently. “I want to,” he replied. “You deserve to feel good, angel.”  
  
Allen closed his eyes, resigning, and lay on his back. Tyki moved the sheets aside, trailing open-mouthed kisses from his neck to his sternum; he licked the spot, feeling him breathe and throb. He wanted to tear him apart, have him in a way nobody else could; a way nobody else could _imagine_, going past a pink wig and a glittery smile to the core of a fragile human.  
  
Tyki buried his head between Allen’s thighs, trailing the tip of his tongue on his inner spots, where his scent became paradoxically the most innocent, genuine, poignant. A deep-seated hunger left him breath-stolen, punch-drunk, lips tight at his underside to flick and lick at his most sensitive spots.  
  
Allen hooked his legs around Tyki’s neck, caging him between his thighs. Tyki made love to his dick, making the tip slide between his perfectly plush lips; and he took him in, scarcely, sucking a kiss to his dripping head. He tilted his head to kiss Allen’s ankle, smoothing his face against the smooth skin. But Allen was mandatory; he took a fistful of Tyki’s curls and pushed him against his cock, forcing it into his mouth until Tyki’s nose was squished against his crotch. Tyki’s tongue flicked erratically around him, lustful groans slipping past his muffled throat at the sensation. He grabbed Allen’s hand, tangling their fingers together as he pleasured him with his techniques, bobbing his head up and down on him, carefully slow.  
  
Lips pulled around his dick, Tyki stared into his hungry eyes like a ravenous creature would look at the desired prey. He parted with a slick pop, tongue licking across his damp lips. Allen’s cheeks flushed pink, lower lip caught between his teeth. That was his treasure, the filthiest angel Tyki had ever set his eye on. His boy, his immeasurable strength. An exotic dancer selling his body and fake smiles to the night. In Tyki’s arms, he was this sexless creature with pristine tears, a rough scar and too much make-up.  
  
He clasped Allen’s hand into his, tighter, as his mouth wandered over his chest, catching one pink nipple with his quick tongue. Allen shuddered under his touch, tensed into an impossible arch. Tyki rutted against the mattress, providing friction to his neglected cock. Despite his impatient breath, it didn’t matter. He flourished in giving pleasure to him, because that was the only way he could feel him his.  
  
Allen took Tyki’s hand, guiding his fingers past his lips. He cherished them with his tongue, hollowing his cheeks in efficient suction. He peered through half-lidded eyes, sealing his lips around his knuckles until his fingers were perfectly slick. Reaching between Allen’s thighs, Tyki massaged his pink hole, pleased by how quickly Allen understood that he had to spread his legs and bend them to his chest if he wanted to be prepared, to be pounded deep, fast, hard. He was reflexively hard, too, as Allen intonated that melody of moans and gasps and reminded him of all the reasons Tyki couldn’t quit him. Tyki buried his two fingers into Allen’s warmth, shoving them deep, curling them into his needy hole to rub against his heated walls. Allen groaned in frustration, muscles tense, on the verge of snapping; he arched his back, curled his toes, moaning long and sweet and high-pitched.  
  
“I’m,” Allen gasped. “I’m fine, I’m ready,” he said, suddenly too eager to please, to have Tyki the way Tyki had him under his skin. Wholeheartedly, spontaneously, beautifully.  
  
“Are you sure?” Tyki asked, too soft. He smoothed himself against Allen’s body, scissoring his fingers into his twitching hole. Placing a kiss to his forehead, he melted in his silver pools, damp with the thin foil of a tear. Allen nodded fiercely, reaching between them to grip Tyki’s wrist, urging his fingers out his stretched, pink hole.  
  
“How do you want it?” Tyki breathed on his face, mouthing against his lips in the imitation of a kiss, sloppy and wet. Allen draped his arms around him, rubbing his face against Tyki’s, breathless gasps tickling his skin, passion translated in the firm grip of his hands clinging to Tyki’s large shoulders, in the insistent foot tapping against the small of the man’s back.  
  
“Like this,” Allen whispered, enamoured. He licked across Tyki's cheek, letting his hand glide down his spine, taking a handful of Tyki’s ass. “Like this, but rough,” Allen looked at him through his lashes, pursing his lips in a kiss to Tyki’s Cupid’s bow. “I don’t want you to hold back, Tyki.” Voice hoarse, beautiful, he spread his legs wide, “Not this time.”  
  
Tyki inhaled through his nostrils, sinking his teeth into Allen’s neck. His nose brushed his vein, taking in the scent of him. Aligned with his entrance, it took the push of Allen’s foot against his back to enter him, groaning at the familiar stretch of him around his throbbing, dripping dick. Allen’s mouth gaped open, head thrown back in the pillows, face twisted, quirked in a grimace of torturous pleasure.  
  
It didn’t compare to whoever Allen had slept with, the last few months. They weren’t capable of grasping his core, fooled by Allen’s manufactured facade. They weren’t made to _please _him, to give him what he wanted. Allen made him feel that. He writhed and arched his back, pinned underneath Tyki’s body; as he planted one hand on the pillow, by the side of Allen’s head, the boy turned his face to mouth at Tyki’s dark wrist, swirling his tongue across his pulse. And he never diverted his gaze; he panted with his mouth open, with his lashes fanning weakly, with his scarlet-red lipstick like smeared bruises on his pretty face.  
  
Tyki slung his arms around his waist, lifting him just slightly from the mattress. He thrusted deep with the sensuous snap of his strong hips, leaning above him to kiss him, tongue smoothing filthily on his. Allen’s tightness dragged low groans out of him, his fingers bruising Tyki’s back with the force of their grip.  
  
Then, malleable, sickeningly subjugated to the pleasure Tyki gave him, Allen took Tyki’s earlobe between his teeth, sucking softly. “Talk to me...”  
  
“Sweet or nasty?” Tyki muttered, cupping Allen’s nape as he pounded into him, filling him to the hilt.  
  
“Mhhh,” Allen whined, a frown forming between his brows. He wrenched his eyes open, dragging his nails across his cheek. “Not like this. Like you always _do_...”  
  
Oh. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. It mirrored Tyki’s as well. _Oh._  
  
_Talk to me. Like you always do...  
  
_It held the smell of summer sunlight, the consistence of pink petals. “Tu és lindo,” Tyki purred against his cheek, kissing him, rolling his hips until they came to a halt. He pulled out until the tip was the only part of him buried into him, and he noticed how Allen waited for it, for the pleasant impact. Tyki slammed back in, forcing a loud moan out of him.  
  
“Meu anjo. Minha paixão,” Tyki grabbed him by his neck, putting him into position into the mattress. “Lindo, tão lindo, menino,” fingers squishing Allen’s throat, he could feel the ecstasy into Allen’s look, similar to his own. Allen held his hand there, allowing Tyki to press harder, to _dare_. Allen liked to say he wasn’t a fragile doll, as much as he despised Tyki’s carefulness. Still, he had to be handled with care; Tyki broke him, took him, hurt him too many times.  
  
Never enough, never enough, never enough, a thirst he couldn’t quench; Tyki shoved his thumb into Allen’s mouth, choking him with the other hand. Allen welcomed it in, sucking on it with eager want, letting Tyki play with the softness of his lips, ruining what was left of his lipstick.  
  
Insatiable, he released Allen’s neck; his thrusts faltered instead, and with his dick inside Allen’s ass, he sat up, pulling Allen with him to move together, his legs straddling Tyki’s crotch and his chest right in front Tyki’s face, Tyki licking and biting on his nipples without giving him the physical time to catch his breath, to compose himself.  
  
Allen moved in waves on top of him, firm chest raising and falling to the cadence of his ragged breath; Tyki followed him, looking up at him with adoring eyes as his mouth sucked on one nipple, as he relished in the tenderness of his body. Allen’s hands were through his hair, tight and fervent between his black curls. There was a specific tint of pink on his cheeks, similar to a fresh blossom. His saliva and his spit stuck to Tyki’s face as they kissed, fingers wandering everywhere on the man’s face, from the firm plane of his jaws to his sinewy neck.  
  
Allen’s lips brushed his ear, the smooth, high-pitched sound of his voice sending shivers of delight down Tyki’s spine. “I want you to come inside me.”  
  
Tyki parted his lips, gasping quietly. Closing his eyes, he felt Allen’s hair all over his face as he bounced on top of him, taking everything Tyki had to give. His sighs were enamoured and impassioned, as honest and unapologetic as the way Tyki rested his head on his chest, breaths too fast and thrusts too deep.  
  
Allen messed up his curls, smoothing his hands all over his head as Tyki gripped his plump ass cheeks, as the air was hot and tense between them, arrhythmic, sloppy kisses leaving their lips swollen and their heartbeats too rapid. The mattress creaked under their joined weight, until the spasm of their bodies came to an end. Allen moaned, pliant and beautiful, into Tyki’s mouth; a long sound, his orgasm coming quick and copious in dirty stains over his stomach.  
  
Tyki came, thick, warm pearls of seed flooding Allen’s intimacy. They held each other tight, with their cheeks pressed close. Tyki didn’t mind the sweat dripping down his muscles at the effort, nor did he mind Allen’s haphazard kisses at the corner of his mouth.  
  
His mind was a blank canvas, riding a wave of ecstatic bliss. Two words echoed distantly, giving a justification to his crazed, unstoppable heartbeat; too afraid to voice them, they lingered at the back of his mind, at the tip of his tongue.  
  
_Te amo. Te amo. Te amo, te amo, te amo, te amo. Te amo. I love you so much I don’t know how to make peace with myself.  
  
_Allen slipped off his dick, collapsing on the bed with Tyki’s cum inside, leaking between his skinny thighs. He was an irremediable disaster, and Tyki was at fault. _Te amo. I love you so much._  
  
The boy brought two arms above his heavy eyes, in the deep calmness of the after-orgasm. His chest was shaken by painful sobs, carrying the weight of the hyper-intense emotions he purportedly tended to bottle, silencing his sensitivity to preserve a shallow pride.  
  
Tyki kept him into his arms, placing a kiss to his chin. “It’s okay, boy. It’s just you and me.”  
  
He let himself rest against the mattress, dragging Allen with him, The boy hid his face into Tyki’s chest, his tears falling in crystalline drops on his dark-caramel skin. An ethereal purity had him wrap his arms tight around his pale body, pained with inconsolable tremors. Tyki closed his eyes, meditative, sighing very suavely. Those pristine tears caressed him like velvet. Allen’s eyelashes brushed him, just barely. He was absurd and powerful and frightening, in the way only pure things could be.  
  
Dark fingers tilted Allen’s chin, hazy eyes crossing Tyki's indulgent, golden stare. They were tired, stubbornly wild. Moonlight peeked through Allen’s hair, unkempt in a mess over his face, on his skinny shoulders. _Te amo. I love you **too **much._  
  
Tyki stared, intently, in the afterglow of his euphoria. He found the art of watching to be miraculously compelling, nothing short of a tragic anguish. Allen looked away, a slight pout forming on his lips, a physical gesture of his that Tyki had well known and interpreted as self-disgust.  
  
“Stop staring at me,” Allen whispered, furrowing his brows in defensive aggressiveness, like a cornered animal.  
  
Tyki chuckled, sultry. He brushed the fringe out of Allen’s face with a gentle sweep of his hand. So he smoothed his palm on Allen’s back, across the dip and the sinuous arch of his spine. “Why?”  
  
“Because it’s embarrassing,” Allen huffed.  
  
Tyki’s hand trailed up his nape, yanking his fingers through his locks. The chuckle never faltered, tasting sweet. “_You, _out of all people, have the guts to say that it's embarrassing?”  
  
Allen rolled his eyes, then put his hands on Tyki’s chest and rested his face atop. Legs angled up, feet dangling in the air, back and forth, in amorous playfulness. “Being a stripper is another thing. People watch you under a million lights.”  
  
Tyki raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the difference?”  
  
He managed to exhaust Allen, considering the loud noise of annoyance he emitted; but it amused him even further, like dealing with a whimsical child.  
  
“They don’t look at me like _this_,” he said, touching Tyki’s cheek with gentle fingers. Tyki smoothed his face into the caress, cupping Allen’s hand with his own. Unmoving, he kept gazing into his eyes, pressing a kiss to Allen’s palm. The silver of Allen’s irises flickered briefly. “Not like you do.”  
  
“I wish they did, though,” Tyki said, firm and smooth, “maybe you’d realise how beautiful you are.”  
  
Allen gave a wonky smile, that time. Tyki could see the tears hiding in the corner of his eyes. He kissed Tyki, longing and sultry. Tyki was lulled by the cadence of their joined breaths. Allen let out sweet noises into Tyki’s mouth, hooking his arms under his armpits in a solid embrace; indivisible.  
  
His boy let go of his tiredness, ending the kiss with soft smooches to Tyki’s lips to squish his cheek against his chest, sighing contently. Tyki loved that cuddly mess of a stripper, proud and contradictory. How many people had wished to hold him through the night when he danced by the pole, selling smiles? How many had tried to get to know him, flattering him with gifts and money and sweet words? How many of them had obtained the one-night privilege to penetrate Allen’s body and claim him through strange sheets?  
  
However, the thought was both arousing and painful. Allen fucked others, maybe just to mock Tyki for what he was missing out on. Tyki couldn’t picture him waiting devotedly on a rose-and-candles bed, because it simply didn’t suit them. _Come back if that makes you happy, _Allen said once, with all his gentle altruism. _We don’t have to define ourselves; what’s the point in that.  
  
We’re wanderers._  
  
They were loyal to their traditions, happy with what they had. With the certainty that Tyki would come back every three months, finding Allen at the same stripclub and loving him because he liked the idea of having him in his life.  
  
Silencing his persistent thoughts, Tyki realised that Allen had fallen asleep into his arms.  
  
He recognised the sound of keys coming from the entrance as well as a pair of slow, precise footsteps. Lavi came in, bringing a forefinger to his lips as he crossed Tyki’s eye, muttering an adorable _shhhh_. Lavi’s total absence of surprise made Tyki feel more at ease with himself, really. Like he knew he was still Allen’s lover.   
  
Lavi tiptoed, undressing in front of Tyki with astounding casualness. In a few seconds, he changed in his ridiculous green pyjama. He was mechanically fluid, like there was something about him which wanted to _look _goofy.  
  
“Did you party tonight?” Tyki murmured, laying comfortably with his head on the pillow.  
  
“I haven’t had half the fun you and Allie had,” Lavi snickered, tone pitching slightly higher at the sweet nickname.  
  
Tyki’s laugh came out breathy, too low. He ran his fingers through Allen’s hair, looking at Lavi. “Why? Can’t find someone to hook up with?”   
  
“That’s too easy,” Lavi said. His smile didn’t waver, trained to amuse. “It’s not what I’m looking for at the moment.”  
  
“And what is it?” Tyki questioned, blinking slowly and feigning interest. Lavi was smiling wide, running his hand through his messy hair to brush it out his forehead.  
  
“I won’t talk about it at this hour, when I’ve danced all night and my fucking feet hurt and you _two_, and one is my friend, are naked in my room and stink of sex.”  
  
“Sincere apologies,” Tyki grinned, his hands stalling through Allen’s hair.  
  
“Apologies accepted,” Lavi whispered, very solemnly. He sat on his bed, folding his legs under himself, leaning his back against the wall. “What about yourself?”  
  
“What?” Tyki repeated, raising a brow.  
  
“I mean,” Lavi hemmed, scratching his cheek. “What brings you here again?”  
  
Taken aback, Tyki stared at him, confusely. He directed his eyes to the sleeping angel on his chest, and all the tenderness he felt for him washed over him in a powerful wave. He raised his gaze towards Lavi again, a smile on his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?”  
  
“He missed you, you know,” Lavi said. There was a brisk glint in his green eye, almost reproachful. Tyki tightened his arms around Allen, breathing out a low sigh.  
  
“I know.”  
  
Lavi’s bed creaked under his weight as he got up, heading quietly to the bathroom; before closing the door behind himself, he gave Tyki a cognisant smile. Tyki felt it in his chest, as though it was probing his guilt.  
  
Allen moved in his arms, turning on his side. Tyki hooked thin hair behind his ear, smoothing his hand on the boy’s exposed neck. Destructive beauty, one of a kind. When he looked at him, there was no sense of drowsiness or boredom. Every tiny detail of his used to catch his attention, like there was a story behind the way he laughed, walked, talked. It would stop, eventually, at its own pace. Tyki liked to be trapped in the eternity of that moment, wanted to remember him being young and extraordinary.  
  
In a few seconds, he fell asleep with his hands on Allen’s body, tense, after spending endless minutes in contemplation. There was this uncertainty lingering in his dreams, and a certain ache in his limbs. Allen’s bed was warm and the sheets held the scent of beautiful memories.  
  
_Would Allen ever grow tired of waiting? _

**Author's Note:**

> 1) tu és lindo: you're beautiful.  
2) meu anjo: my angel.  
3) minha paixao: my passion.  
4) Lindo, tão lindo, menino: pretty, so pretty, boy.
> 
> hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
